


The Tale of the Great King

by infectedscrew



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Folk Tales, Gen, Telling stories to babies, story telling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the parents of Skyhold are overwhelmed with work and can't entertain their children. Luckily the Inquisitor is only to happy to gather up the children for a story or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale of the Great King

Occasionally the parents of Skyhold grew too overwhelmed with their duties that they couldn’t take time for their children. The tiny beings unlucky enough to be born and young in time of war were too small to help outside of the small chore here or there. Thus the small creatures were left to run about the place, largely getting in the way.

When the beleaguered parents told the Advisors of the Inquisition about their concerns they weren’t quite sure how to handle it. None of them were parents, after all, and they had a war to deal with.

When the news reached the ears of the great Inquisitor it took no longer than an hour for the word to be sent out to gather all the young children in the courtyard. It was time to sit down and listen to the powerful being who could control the Fade itself.

It was story time.

The children sat huddled around the slender leader, some of them in awe of being so close to someone so important.

“Do you children know the tales of the Dread Wolf?”

A few of the youths nodded, having being raised in a Dalish clan before the chaos forced them to seek refuge elsewhere. The rest shook their heads slowly, as they were a mix of humans, dwarves and city elves who had never come close to any such stories.

White teeth gleamed in a sharp smile and a cheerful hum left a slender throat.

“The Dread Wolf is a great spirit and god that the Dalish know well. He is a massive beast with dripping fangs.” As the Inquisitor spoke battle calloused fingers pointed at normal teeth bared in a smile turned wicked before quickly clicking nails across the courtyard stones as the God was described, “with jet black claws that tap, tap, tap against the ground of Thedas.”

The children stared, watching the elf speak, captured by the smooth voice and the careful hand movements that built the beast in their mind.

“A beast that all Dalish children learn to fear and revere. The Dread Wolf is just as dangerous as he is clever and any child would do well to listen to his tales. One will not last long in this world if they do not have the wisdom of the wolf tucked under their belt.

“But don’t you worry, the Dread Wolf is not unkind. He has rules and promises that he must keep. And Lo’ the day he break any of them. So long as one is smart and follows two very simple rules, they need not fear being trapped–snap!–in the beast’s maw.”

The Inquisitor’s hands clapped together drawing a gasp from the children.

One of the braver one’s, a gruff dwarven girl with a suspicious stare, leaned forward. “What are those rules?” She asked, hands clenched tight around a wooden pendant Dagna had made her.

“One!” The Inquisitor started, back straight and forefinger lifted. “Always, always treat others with kindness. Even if they are being utter prats.”

The children giggled amongst themselves.

“Two,” the rules continued, “always keep a promise. For if you don’t…”

The giggling stopped and they stared, waiting to hear the rest. They were not disappointed for the adult leaned forward and whispered the second, most important rule.

“If you don’t… Your very life might be forfeit.”

A shiver ran through the small group and they glanced at each other fearfully. For them life had just started, the last thing they wanted was to lose it early. After all, they were in the middle of a war. Each of them had seen the devastating toll that a lost life could have.

“Would you like to hear the story of a boy who came across the Wolf and got exactly what he wanted?” The question was uttered at normal volume as the elf straightened back up and smiled goodnaturedly at the children.

Each of them nodded vigorously save for one small boy who shook his head desperately.

The Inquisitor laughed, the sound light despite the times.

“Don’t look so afraid.”

The boy scowled.

“If you listen to the story and take the advice that I give you, then you need never fear the Wolf or anyone else that strides across Thedas. All right?”

Only when the boy nodded did the adult of the tiny collection settle down for one of the Dalish’s favorite children’s tales.

“Long ago, far before the creation of human cities. Older than Denerim, Kirkwall. Older even than Tevinter–”

“Nothing is older than Tevinter!” One human boy pointed out, dirty face wrinkled in disdain, nudging the boy who’d been so unwilling to listen earlier.

Another laugh echoed from their story-teller. “Of course there are things older than Tevinter! How do you think Tevinter even got started?”

The boy opened his mouth, glanced at the Elvhen girl next to him. She shrugged at him and he closed his mouth again.

“This is from the time before the Golden City when humans were just starting to make cities and when the elves of old held the true power. Back when the Dwarves kept to their grand Thaigs and never came to the surface.”

“Safer down there,” a tiny dwarven boy muttered to his brother beside him, who nodded in sage agreement.

“Back before the start of the Chantry and the Blights there was a small kingdom just to the south of the Korcari Wilds that was settled just in the shadows of the great trees.”

A small hand lifted and the Inquisitor paused to arch an eyebrow at the Elvhen child.

“There isn’t anything to the south of the Wilds…?” The child questioned.

“There very much used to be. This is from a time before the Witch of the Wilds dominated the trees. Where the Korcari Wilds were just called the Korcari Woods and considered nothing more than another bunch of trees that made travel between towns difficult.”

Quiet murmurings broke out amongst the children. They had never heard of anything so old. Nothing in their lives had ever been older than their own grandparents so the story must come from a very ancient time indeed. They quieted and stared at the older elf as, clearly, the story was only given to those with the highest wisdom and intelligence.

“As I was saying, this kingdom was small but peaceful. It had people from all walks of life. All the way from their gentle king all the way down to the content dirt farmers around the kingdom walls. There were weaponsmiths and scholars, bakers and soldiers, everything from the very rich to the very poor walked the streets of this kingdom.”

As the Inquisitor spoke a few of the adults, some of the Inner Circle among them moved to listen. Cullen leaned against the door to the Grand Hall while Josephine stood at his side. Bull had stopped his training with Krem to wander over by the group and plop onto the ground a few feet away–Krem dropped an elbow on his head as an easy perch. He beckoned Sera over with a finger when the curious archer poked her head outside of the tavern. Even Dorian and Solas pulled themselves away from their books to step outside and listen, at the behest of Varric who, of course, was always interested in hearing another story-teller work.

“There was also in this city a very smart little boy. He was smart, but unhappy. Unlike the rest of the kingdom he didn’t not have a name that he could claim to be his own. His father was not a great master of anything. His mother wasn’t a brilliant weaponsmith or noble. They were just normal people in a kingdom of greats. And he was dissatisfied with that.

“He wanted more.”

The Inquisitor leaned on one hand, using the other to gesture along with the story. The children kept their mouths clamped shut, focused on the soothing voice creating a world they couldn’t even begin to fathom inside their heads.

“He wanted to be remembered for all time, for people to whisper his name until the end of the land. Most importantly, he wanted power, the ability to drag his family out of the dusty hovel that they lived in.

“He was going to become a great scholar.”

A child scoffed and the group turned to look at her. She had her nose turned to the sky, green eyes squinting in disbelief.

“What is it?” The leader of the Inquisition asked.

She blew out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “How can a scholar be great? All they do is read books all day. He should become a soldier then he can protect people with his blade!”

The children whipped their heads back to look at the amused looking elf. There was no way the girl was wrong. Soldiers were great people who always went down in history for their strength.

“A blade will shatter with time but knowledge will carry even until the fingers of death take you.”

“You can’t fight a rage demon with words,” the girl pointed out, looking pleased with herself.

The Inquisitor nodded. “That is true. But with knowledge you would know that a rage demon’s flesh will melt a blade. Knowledge tells you that it is best to have a mage clever with ice and water attack a fiery rage demon.”

The girl’s mouth formed a small circle and she nodded slowly, giving into the wisdom.

“The boy knew that with wisdom his name and his power could carry for generations. A soldier must wait for a battle to prove himself strong but a scholar can do so at any moment. There are strengths in both, do not misunderstand me. This boy in particular simply knew that his future lay in books and words.”

Silence dropped over the children again and they shuffled close to the adult kneeling in their midsts. They barely noticed when Cassandra crouched next to the huge Qunari to listen nor when some of their parents paused close by to hear the story as well. Very rarely did anyone see the Inquisitor outside of the War Chambers or battle.

“Now the boy was lucky enough to have an apprenticeship at a library. He rushed there each day hoping to find some kernel of knowledge that no one else had seen. After months of desperately searching his efforts finally paid off. A dusty tome, hidden away behind piles of other books was unearthed by his small hands.

“But, much to his frustration, it was in a language older than even his kingdom. He had a book that could hold all the secrets of Thedas but was locked behind a barrier of ancient words. Just as he was close to deciding that all was for not a dear friend of his, a sweet little elf girl–who looked much like you,” the Inquisitor tapped the nose of the Elvhen girl seated very close, “told him of a great spirit who lived in the nearby woods. One who could grant any wish if someone only traded it something first. It was a spirit that danced between the trees and only the quickest and the cleverest could catch it.

“The boy did not believe in spirits, of course. He was far too smart for such things. Spirits were just the creation of silly people too afraid to look closer. Despite the girl’s tall tale he decided that he didn’t have much of a choice. If he wanted to become as powerful as he wished, he may need to seek the help of a supposed great spirit. After all he was quick and clever.

“So he would find this spirit,” here the Inquisitor snorted and chuckled, “or rather a great hermit.”

Another giggled passed between the children, sharing the Inquisitor’s knowing look. The spirit in the story just had to be a hermit.

“Packing up a small bag, the boy kissed his father goodbye and wished his mother farewell and he left the city. With a deep breath and firm step he strode toward the Korcari Woods for the first time in his life.”

The Inquisitor paused and looked thoughtfully down at the children.

“You have all heard of the Fade, of course.”

The children shared looks of disbelief. Everyone had heard of the Fade. It was impossible to grow up on this land and not hear of it at least once. Each of them gave the Inquisitor a look that almost mocked the question.

“Perfect! Then you know,” the words continued slowly as the elf leaned forward again, fingers moving towards them, “that the Fade can crawl between shades like a spider and brush against our cheeks like a spring breeze.”

One child flinched away from the Inquisitor’s brief touch as if fearing it to be the Fade itself.

“The Fade is everywhere, whether we choose to believe it or not. And in some places it is far stronger than anywhere else. The Korcari Wilds, even at the time of the young, smart boy, was one of those places. Souls of those long past, demons and spirits of the other worlds lingered there. They whispered among the branches of the woods and they followed the boy the moment he entered the forest.

“There was no way that the spirit, or rather, the hermit, did not know of the boy entering his land. He knew instantly and his forest friends trailed the intruder.”

The young girl beside the Inquisitor swallowed, squeezing her knees to her chest. She didn’t relax even when the leader offered a brief comforting glance.

“One of the hermit’s great friends was an old, angry spirit. A furious demon that religiously protect the hermit with all the power it possessed. For three days that spirit in particular followed the young boy.

“For three days the boy stumbled through the dense forest. He was exhausted, quickly running out of food and his bones ached. But he was determined. After all, if he was going to return to the city empty handed, why return at all.”

Around the adult the children nodded in agreement.

“On the morning of the fourth day the boy stubbornly continued on, his feet sore and his joints aching. He was so determined he didn’t even notice as the forest grew dark, the shadows long, plucking at his clothes. He didn’t, or rather, ignored the sparks of light shining around him. Spirits weren’t real after all. He had nothing to fear. Not even as the ground before him started to shift and turn as if the Fade itself was threatening to burst forth.”

The children started to shake their heads, one covered his mouth and the dwarven girl with the pendant looked ready for a fight.

“Spirits weren’t real, he told himself over and over. And just as he started to believe it…” The Inquisitor leaned forward again, waiting until the children did the same. “The ground before him… Exploded–boom! And a great towering spirit flooded the world around him!”

A small boy shrieked and clutched the girl beside him. The girl who wanted to be a soldier more than anything raised her fists but had to fight to keep the fear off her face. The elvhen twins cowered next to each other.

“A great demon with a split, hissing mouth and wicked long fangs leered over him. It’s breath ghosting in the air, putrid as if it had personally slurped the souls of the dead out of the land.”

The children shuddered but didn’t dare leave the story. They needed to know what happened to the boy.

“In a deep booming voice, the demon demanded, ‘Why do you dare enter this forest?’ The boy faltered but did not fall. He answered in a quavering voice. ‘I am looking for the forest hermit!’”

As the story was told the Inquisitor gave a light, soft voice to the boy; face fearful to match his. But the demon was given a deep, low voice with a wrinkled nose and barred teeth. The elf was weaving characters for the children.

“‘Forest hermit,’ the demon scoffed. ‘What do you need with him? Speak quickly! Least I have the urge to suck out your eyes!’ At those words the boy found his bravery. No one could speak to him like that! He would be a great scholar with enough power to rule a kingdom. He drew himself up and told the demon as such. The reply was a great, shaking laugh that echoed in the boys ears until they hurt. ‘You are a whelp and deserve no such thing! I shall eat you just for being stupid!’.”

“No!” The dwarven boy gasped.

“He can’t!” Another human girl cried out.

The Inquisitor softened, the terrible expression of the demon sliding away. “Don’t you worry, children. The forest hermit was quite close by. You see, he heard the demon emerge and he had heard the rumors of the boy in the forest. While the demon had questioned the boy, he had circled in the shadows of the trees and listened. He read the heart of the boy and found it to be pure, if misguided.

“Just as the demon crouched over the boy to steal his eyes, the hermit stepped forward and ordered it away. In a voice that creaked like the wind through the woods, he said, ‘the boy is here for me! I shall speak with him. Rest now, demon.’”

A collective breath of relief escaped the group, drawing an amused smile to the face of the elf and a couple chuckles from the other adults close by.

“Reluctantly the demon did as told and left. With the demon gone the hermit faced the boy. He was a wizened old man with a long, tangled beard, eyes grayed by age and exhaustion. His gnarled hands clutched a knotted staff that he leaned on for support. ‘You are quite brave’, he told the child.”

The Inquisitor’s voice became wizen and slender hands pretended to shake with age. It was not difficult for the children to picture the hermit. Many of them knew old men who looked just like him.

“The boy, bolstered by the comment puffed up his chest and said, ‘I have come to make a trade with you. I want the knowledge of this book.’ The hermit laughed and gently asked to see the book. Once it was given to him, he cradled it like an old friend.

“‘And what will you do with this knowledge?’ he asked, watching the boy closely.

“The boy answered honestly, ‘I will raise my family from poverty and become powerful enough to rule a kingdom’.

“The hermit nodded, passing the book back. ‘But is that what you want?’”

The Inquisitor watched as the children exchanged confused glances. After all, how could that not be what the boy wanted.

“The boy was just as confused as you are. After a long moment he nodded and repeated his wish. The hermit gave a soft sigh.

“‘Knowledge and power can be ruinous things.’

“The boy answered that he did not care and then the real question came. The hermit came very close and asked what the boy would be willing to give for such a great gift. Of course, the boy did not have an answer. He had no name, no money and only a small dagger in his pocket. After thinking long and hard he found his answer.

“‘If this wish proves true and I am granted the kingdom and power that I deserve then I will give you my kingdom’.”

One of the human girls frowned. “Why would he give that up if that’s all he wanted?” She asked, eyes narrowed at their illustrious leader.

“Ah, you see the boy did not believe that the hermit was who he claimed to be. He did not think that the wish would work. Still the hermit nodded, promised the boy the power of a thousand tongues and a thousand words. He tapped his nose and told the boy to not open the book until he reach the city. Then and only then would he have the power to read it.

“The boy gave a nod, tucked the book into his bag and, before he could blink, the hermit was gone. With his energy restored and his heart pounding, he raced back to the city. Even if he did not believe, he could hope.

“Without stopping, he rushed home and the moment he crossed into the city gates he ripped the book from his bag and dropped it open. His eyes skipped over the words, throat tight and mind dizzy with excitement–”

“Could he read them?” The dwarven girl demanded, impatient.

“He could!”

The children cheered.

“He could every single word! The secrets of ancient times, promises of old spilled out into his thoughts. Without delay he returned to the library and told his master of the news that he brought. Soon he was given old books to translate and word of his abilities spread throughout the city, eventually the entire kingdom.

“So excited and proud of himself was he that he very quickly forgot his promise to the hermit. Not that he could be blamed. In a very short time his family was elevated from poverty to nobility. People were soon seeking him out from far and wide for his gifts and knowledge.

“It did not take long before the smart boy, now a smart young man was hand picked by the king himself to be an advisor. And as time passed the young man grew to be the king’s favorite for his clever words and knowledgeable advice helped the small kingdom to flourish and grow.

“But as time is won’t to do that king grew old and no longer wished to be king. He wished to join his fellows in eternal rest. With no heirs to the throne, the king picked the smart young man, now a brilliant man to be his successor. And when the time came, the kingdom was handed over to the man who was born in poverty but found the talent to translate any history.

“Under this new and brilliant leader the kingdom flourish. It grew from the tiny palace just below the Korcari Woods and stretched all the way to the Free Marches. Beautiful cities and shrines sprang up all over Thedas. The kingdom, now an empire had spread it’s arms wide and no where in the land was the king’s name unknown. The Empire was renamed after him, a reward for his intelligence and clever guidance. Do you know his name?”

The children paused, blinking at the question. A few shared glances, some scratched their heads and only one attempted a guess.

“King… Kyle?”

The Inquisitor laughed, loud and brightly. “No, no, it’s certainly not Kyle. It’s actually a name we all know quite well and one the Dalish, in particular, know very intimately.”

“…Celene?”

The Inquisitor’s head shook in the negative.

“No. The King’s name was Arlath… His kingdom was Arlathan.”

The children stared, opened mouthed and shocked.

“The great king guided his people to brilliance and controlled so much for so long that he never feared that it could ever be taken from him. But, as it always is, all debts must be paid and the hermit had not forgotten.”

The words were whispered like a tender sigh, the promise of things to come. It made the children huddle closer, feeling the threat even if they could not put it into words.

“On a dark and stormy night, not long after the king had taken ill from the winter chill, he heard it.” The Inquisitor pressed a hand to the stones and quickly, sharply, drummed against them. The sound of the nails clicking made the children shudder.

“The tap of a beast’s claws against pavement and the heavy growl rending through the air. It was enough to make the king rip his bed curtains aside. And there! He saw it in the window! The glowing, furious red eye of a wolf forced to wait far too long for it’s supper. It’s great snout revealing those dripping fangs.”

The Inquisitor hunched forward, shoulders tight and hands lifted like dangerous claws. It made the children draw back in fear but not one of them wanted to stop the story.

“The king gave a great cry but the next moment he looked all he saw was the elderly hermit, tapping gently against the glass with the tip of his staff. He looked pleasant enough, despite the storm raging around him.

“Without hesitation the brilliant king lurched forward and yanked the window open, allowing the man inside. ‘What are you doing here?’ He demanded, his voice far more confident and powerful than the delicate thing it had once been.

“The hermit regarded the king without much interest. He had met beings of all kinds of power, this one king did not impress him much. ‘I have come to collect on my payment’.

“The king scoffed. ‘Payment? For what?’

“‘For the kingdom I gave you,’ the hermit replied, leaning on his staff as if the world weighed down on him.

“‘The kingdom you gave me?’ The king laughed, loud and cruel. ‘You did no such thing. I made this kingdom. You gave me, what?, words? I could have learned them on my own.’ His fear at the hermit’s sudden arrival made him violent and angry. It had been a very long time since someone had made him feel so small. ‘This kingdom was built by my power and knowledge alone. Leave, old man, before I have you tossed out on your wrinkled rear!’”

The children clung close to the Inquisitor’s words, breathless and fearing the king’s fate.

“The hermit gave a great sigh and returned to the window. Before he disappeared back into the storm he gave a small warning, ‘knowledge can be ruinous’. The king pointed him out, furious. Without another word the hermit disappeared.

“For a very long time after the king heard nothing from the old man and he forgot about him just as quickly as before. The kingdom continued to grow under his hand and he truly believed that he had won. His name was on every tongue in the land and his power was absolute.

“And yet, a promise cannot be broken without terrible consequence. Slowly, like a poison, rumors started to spread through the kingdom. One by one castles and hovels alike began to scorn the king and fall into shadow. The kingdom started to fall under the weight of lies and fears. Sibling fought sibling and the once great empire crumbled into itself until nothing but ash and broken stone was left behind.

“When the king was left, alone, in his ruined castle listening only to his own ragged sobs did the hermit return. But he did not return as the crippled old man. He came as he truly was, a towering wolf, great and terrible to behold. His massive paws fell silently on the broken ground to pause before the king.

“‘Do you see now, King?’ The wolf asked.

“The king could not help but to see. ‘I do. I was so wrong to turn you away. But the knowledge now does nothing. My kingdom is ruined.”

“‘That is not what I see. I see that your wish has come true’.”

The children broke into whispers, not understanding the words of the story-wolf.

The Inquisitor waited until they quieted.

“The king looked up, aged beyond his years. ‘My wish has been destroyed!’

“The wolf shook it’s great head, deep red eyes closing somberly. ‘Nay, you have gotten your true wish. You will be remembered for all time. People will whisper your name from now until the end of this land. Your kingdom has fallen but your name will not be taken down with it’.

“Then the great spirit, or rather, the great god, took pity on the king. He gathered the king close to his warm coat and whispered a gentle prayer. With a painless snap, he sent the king to the Fade to rest for all eternity while his name stayed in the hearts of all who would walk the land of Thedas.”

The Inquisitor quieted, the story having come to an end.

The children starred.

“The Dread Wolf gave the king what he wanted but at a terrible price. You must remember those two rules and you will never meet the fate of the great king,” the Inquisitor announced, standing.

The children scrambled to their feet.

“It is up to you to decide if the king really received what he wanted but, more importantly, it is up to you to make sure that you are always careful with spirits and people you don’t know.”

“Does the Dread Wolf still exist?” A human boy sniffed, looking about cautiously.

The Inquisitor’s mouth quirked in a curious smirk. A very quick glance was shot up to Dorian and Solas, one of whom looked very amused.

“If he does, are you going to be the one who accidentally falls into his trap?”

Very quickly the child shook his head.

“Good. Now go help your parents with the chores. Maker knows they are going to need some help since you’ve all been away for so long.”

The hands that had at once been a powerful king’s wave and a wolf’s dangerous claw shooed the children off.

“I didn’t know you had that kind of story tucked under your belt, Quizzie,” Varric announced, trumping down the stairs with the other’s not too far behind him.

“The Dalish have a lot of stories and so do I, personally. I just don’t really don’t get the chance to say them.”

Varric dropped his hands onto his hips. “We’ll have to change that. Herald’s Rest tomorrow night for drinks and stories?”

The Inquisitor nodded. “I’d like that.”


End file.
